


the entire and perpetual sea

by jelliebean



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Dubious Ethics, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Oblivious Tony Stark, Pining, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelliebean/pseuds/jelliebean
Summary: Steve was surprised by how domestic his day had been.  How sweet Tony was to him.  It was as if he’d been dropped in the middle of a relationship that had been going for years, and it felt.  Well, it felt like home.  The casual way Tony would bump into him and smile.  The way it felt natural to pull him into a hug, kiss his hair.Steve is granted a day to express his love.  But all days end.





	1. this is the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts), [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).



> for ishipallthings, who rec'd one of my fics, which was the highlight of my week  
> for sabrecmc, whose work persuaded me that bottom!steve is a necessary thing  
> i hope it wasn't presumptuous of me to gift this to you

By the time they finally took Loki down (again), Steve was over it.  It was getting old.  This time the delusional demigod had kidnapped three of Odin’s household, taking them for who knows what sort of reason. As Tony always said, you couldn’t reason with crazy.  The battle had taken all night, Loki setting traps at every corner. In retrospect, it had been a good night.  Tony’s modifications to the Iron Man suit let him see through Loki’s projections.  Sam had been invaluable with Redwing.  And when Tony went off plan, seeing an opening they hadn’t anticipated, he’d warned them over the comm.  They’d fought together better than ever.  But it had still been a long night.

Steve ended up at the cell that held Njorun, the goddess of dreams.  She smiled at him, gently, golden hair flowing down her back in a shimmering river, as he opened the door for her.

“Sir, I thank you for the rescue,” she told him, voice ringing, mellow and sweet.

“Glad to be of help,” Steve responded.  It’s what he was made for, after all. 

“Please.  I’d like to grant you a wish.  My domain is dreams, so it will only last for a day, but what do you wish for, Steven Rogers? What can I grant you, to ease your heart?”

She was a goddess, so it was no surprise she could see through him, Steve supposed.  Surely she knew exactly what he wished for, what he wanted so desperately he ached with it.  “I.  Is it temporary?” He switched off the comm.

She smiled again at him, her voice stretching through his heart, a balm on a sore. “No one will come to harm, Captain, unless it be you.  It will only last for a day, after all. But you must be certain what you wish for.  Knowing the consequences.”

Steve knew what he wanted.  Knew it pure, like a flame.  “I don’t know if we can ever know the consequences, fully, ma’am,” he said.

She reached to his face, touching his forehead gently.  “I hadn’t realized mortals had become so wise.”

“Not so wise as that.  I still.  If I get only a day.  I would want to be able to show Tony how much I love him.” It tore him apart to say it out loud.  He’d only ever admitted it to Sam, and then obliquely, and he struggled, every day, to keep it hidden.  He was cautious at team meetings.  He purposely spread his attention to the rest of the Avengers so Tony didn’t notice the way Steve’s eyes tracked him, how he glowed when Tony praised him, how he tried so hard to be the person Tony expected him to be. Sometimes, when Tony worked on a piece of his uniform or equipment, he’d let Steve come down with him to the workshop so he could get immediate feedback on the changes.  It didn’t matter what Steve was supposed to have going on that day—he’d blown off a meeting with Fury in favor of talking about parachutes. 

“It’s only a day, Steven,” she cautioned him. “I can’t change someone’s nature. When the sun rises on you, my powers will end.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Steve vacillated for a second. How would he survive the moment when he had to pull his affection back? And yet.  If it was the only way he’d be able to touch him. To show him.  If no one else would know. He felt a little twinge of guilt.  Would it be unfair to Tony? But she said, no one else would be harmed. Would it only be a dream? Then it would only be his loss.  And he knew that burden all too well. He knew how to say goodbye. “Yes.  I love him so much that some days it feels like I’m drowning because I can’t tell him, because I can’t lose him in my life.  If you can give me a day, when I can tell him, I can show him.  When he forgets, well… I think I can take the hit.”

“Would it be so bad to tell him?” she asked, light still sparkling around her.

“If I lose him, I lose everything.” Steve looked at her directly. This was what he knew.  He knew loss.  And he’d just lost so much already. 

Her look was full of understanding.  “I can give you a day.  Remember that when the sun falls on your skin, my dreams will evaporate.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve started to say, when Tony rounded the corner. 

“I thought maybe you’d run into one of those bilgesnipe Thor mentioned,” Tony said, walking up and planting a quick kiss on him, snaking his armored arm around Steve’s waist.  “I mean, I knew you could handle it on your own, but I like watching you in action.” He winked up at Steve, whose heart was going through a variety of interesting tempo changes. It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed Steve, actually.  A few months back he’d kissed him squarely on the mouth—a joke, he’d said, although Steve wasn’t sure on whom.  And Steve’d never gotten over it. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up and get home.  I told the kid you’d make waffles.” He squeezed Steve’s waist, and then gestured toward Njorun.  “Thor’s waiting outside.”

Steve’s conscience ate at him, but there was probably no universe in which he could reject Tony.  Knowing him as he did, having watched his relationship with Pepper crumble, he knew how rejection crushed him, wounded him in a way nothing else seemed to do. This was torture. This wasn’t the deal he’d made with Njorun, and a part of him whispered that it was penance, that maybe he shouldn’t have asked for anything at all, what right did he have to this? He’d asked for a day where he could show Tony his love, not a day in which Tony was in love with him.  And that’s what it felt like. He was getting everything he wanted, in his secret heart. 

Maybe that’s what she’d meant.  He’d be the only one to get hurt. He’d know truly what he couldn’t have, and it would have all been a dream.  He looked at Njorun, pleading written across his face, but she just smiled at him.

She turned to look at Tony, sharply, eyes probing. “Mr. Stark.”

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her. He glanced at Steve.  “Sif’s got Crazytown in the cone of shame again.”

She nodded at him.  Then looked at Steve, gaze gentle. “Captain, no one will come to harm,” she reminded him, and his heart eased a little.

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand as she left.  “I’ll take you home,” he said.

\--

Apparently no one else seemed to notice much of a change.  Steve did make waffles, and bacon, while Peter edited the video of the battle he’d taken with his phone to a highlights reel. He was still sidelined until he was older, but Tony’d set him to filming.  He got to see the fight, walk through the strategies with the team afterward. Tony scrambled a few dozen eggs to go with the waffles and bacon.  Natasha made coffee, showing Thor how to do it for at least the fifth time.  Clint set the table, and Sam poured juice for everyone. 

“Uh, Steve, Sticky Fingers is playing with his phone at the table,” Tony tattled on Peter. Steve was a stickler for putting away tech during mealtimes. It was important.  For bonding. And sometimes Tony stayed longer, smiled more.

“No phones at breakfast,” Steve told Peter for the billionth time.

“Just instagramming the waffles, Cap,” Peter told him.  “These are like my favorite breakfast, can I bring some back to May?”

Tony shot a knowing look at the kid. Playing on Cap’s guilt at stealing the kid away from his aunt.  Sure enough, Steve’s gaze softened.  “Sure, Pete. Of course you can.” He turned back to the oven to pull out the bacon, missing Peter stick his tongue out at Tony in triumph.

Breakfast was normal, except that Tony stole Steve’s bacon and rested his hand on Steve’s thigh for the entire meal.  Sam caught a glimpse of that hand, but he just nodded to himself, in seeming approval. The team went their separate ways after helping load the dishwasher.  Steve made another pot of coffee, like he usually did, since Tony drank coffee throughout the day. This time, Tony stayed with him in the kitchen sitting on the counter, sneaking him kisses whenever Steve came close enough to reach. Steve finally gave up.  No one would come to harm.  He had a day. He’d take the kisses while he could.

\--

Steve had to fill out some reports for their fight against Loki, working at the kitchen table, since it usually had the best light.  After a little while, Tony sat down next to him, Starkpad in hand, setting down two mugs of coffee.  Steve’s had cream and sugar.  Just enough.  Tony only used sugar.  Tony didn’t say anything, just leaned up comfortably against Steve’s shoulder as he read through memos from Pepper and engineering, occasionally laughing at something or nuzzling gently into Steve’s shoulder.  He pointed out a photo of the Avengers that cropped up on an online tabloid, an old photo, when Steve still had hair that flopped down in his eyes.  He asked Steve if he’d been taking styling advice from a sheepdog, but his tone, always sardonic, had a softness to it, a tenderness, and Steve found he didn’t really mind the comparison at all. Steve couldn’t stop smiling.  He tried.  But it was like his heart had decided to splash across his face, this one day when he could stop hiding. 

\--

Steve went to the VA in the late morning, dropping by Sam’s meeting to talk with some of his veterans.  He tried to do that on Thursdays.  Sam said it helped, although Steve thought maybe Sam was saying it helped Steve.  And he thought, maybe, it did.  Not only because he felt useful, relevant, helpful to Sam and his veterans, but also because it reminded him that he wasn’t alone.  That other people felt like he did, had the same loss, the same guilt, even if his specific case was a little more extreme. 

Tony took him to the VA, as he sometimes did.  But this time he pulled Steve in by the collar, kissed him, and said he’d be back to pick him up for lunch, that they could get a blueplate special somewhere if he showed his AARP card. Then he’d pulled him back for one more quick, casual kiss at the corner of his mouth, his eyes scrunching in the corners still. Steve knew he was smiling through the whole meeting, but his veterans didn’t seem to mind. One of them commented that it was good to see him happy, genuinely happy.  She said she couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled like that. And Tony let Steve pick up the check for lunch, kissing him thank you.

\--

In mid-afternoon, Tony went down to the shop, muttering about Clint’s explosive arrow tips needing a more targeted blast.  But he held onto Steve’s hand as he went, and Steve was more than happy to go along with him.  He settled onto the couch where he sometimes sat.  Tony tossed him a sketchpad he’d produced from seemingly nowhere, and Dum-E wheeled over happily with a set of watercolors.  Steve was surprised by how domestic his day had been.  How sweet Tony was to him.  It was as if he’d been dropped in the middle of a relationship that had been going for years, and it felt.  Well, it felt like home.  The casual way Tony would bump into him and smile.  The way it felt natural to pull him into a hug, kiss his hair.

Steve started a color wash over the page.  Half in daylight, half clearly shadowed in night.  Dawn breaking.  It had somehow turned into his room, his bed, even if the space was still undefined.  He looked up to see Tony looking back at him, smiling, affection radiating gently from him.  His brown eyes crinkled as he tapped his stylus on the desk in front of him.  The way he was twisted, back to Steve, showed off the lines of his body, the sleek, lithe muscle.  Steve loved his body, spent more time thinking about it than he ought to, especially if they were just friends.  But he liked the bird-quick way Tony moved, his amazing bubble butt, his arms draped in sinewy muscle and burn scars.  The way he stood now, feet apart, hands planted on the desk, it was like he was teasing inadvertently. 

Steve realized he was staring and blushed. 

“Like what you see?” Tony asked, voice low and suggestive. 

Steve couldn’t help himself. “I always like looking at you.”

Tony laughed, giving up the pose and the sultry voice. “You’re so…” He tossed the stylus on the desk and moved to stand over Steve.  He bent down, hand reaching out for Steve’s face, drawing him in. He settled into Steve’s lap, mouth closing over Steve’s, tilting his head back and recapturing his lips.  Tony licked over Steve’s mouth, sucking on his lower lip, Steve’s hands coming up to hold Tony’s hips. “You’re so distracting,” Tony finally said. “What’s Clint going to think when his arrows start exploding before they’re supposed to?”

“That he should think of less sexy things? That he’s a grown man, an Avenger for goodness’ sake, he should be able to control himself?”

Tony smothered his laugh in Steve’s neck.  “Or at least he’ll know what I was thinking about when I was making them.” He pulled himself up and kissed Steve between words. “You. Are. Devastatingly. Sexy.”

Steve stifled a groan.  With a lapful of Tony, he was fully hard.  But as willing and eager as Tony seemed to be, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.  Not when this was all a dream. Or maybe not a dream, but also not real.  “I love you,” he said, instead. 

Tony drew back, looking at him closely. Steve felt laid bare, for a second. “Is that your way of telling me to get back to work?” Tony grinned, then kissed him again and clambered off, sauntering back to his work station swaying his hips. He winked, then started back on the arrows.

Steve just watched him work for a while, then turned back to his painting.  It took shape quickly.  Tony, in Steve’s bed, sleeping, blankets tangled around his waist.  Sun creeping in over the skyline.  His painting was a portent, he thought.  The sun fell gently on Tony’s skin, kissing it, gilding it, casting golden warmth over his lax torso. Steve himself sat next to him, watching him, watching over him.  His entire body was in shadow, one hand holding Tony’s, close to the line of the light.  His blond hair looked ashen.  His own coloring was grey. It was an inversion, desperately clinging to the source of his light. The way the color hit, it was some watercolor rendition of Photogen and Nycteris.  And there was no hiding the hopeless love in the line of his body. It was a love letter, in paint. He’d have to burn this.  Or stash it somewhere no one would ever find it.  Fitting. 

A ping went off on Tony’s screen and he looked back at Steve with that warm, quiet smile.  “Nat’s waiting for you in the gym.”

Steve shrugged. He was enjoying basking in Tony’s space, feeling at home in a way he hadn’t anywhere since he’d woken up.  It was a dangerous proposal, but he considered telling her he couldn’t make it. 

Tony wasn’t looking at him as he said, “Don’t blow her off.  She’s likely to strangle me in my sleep if you do.”

Steve sighed, putting down his watercolor.  Tony was fiddling with an arrow tip, so Steve slid a hand around his waist, kissing the back of his neck.  Tony put down the arrow tip, turning fully in Steve’s arms.  He smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.  “Come get me after,” he told Steve.  “And don’t let her do that flippy thing with her left ankle. She always pins you with that move.”

“Right,” Steve said, letting his imagination run.  “I’ll save that for you.”

Tony smirked at him.  “You bet,” he said, smacking Steve’s butt as he walked away.  Steve hesitated at the door, not wanting to leave this magical world, reluctant to relinquish even a moment of this day. “I’ll be here when you get back,” Tony said, as if reading his mind, eyes on Steve, affectionate.  “I’ll be here.”

Steve fixed the moment in his mind.  He had maybe twelve hours left.  He wanted this every day for the rest of his life.  “You make me so happy,” Steve told him.  And it was true.  Sure, he knew that it was going to end, and that he wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle that loss.  He had thought he was. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but this easy, sweet love, this was more than he thought he’d ever have, more than he had imagined. Njorun had said he’d be the only one hurt, and it was a deal he’d make, over and over again, protecting Tony more reflex than second nature.  But he didn’t know what would be left of himself, tomorrow.

\--

Dinner was a team affair, loud and boisterous, just the same as always.  Except that sometimes, he’d look over at Tony, and Tony would be looking back, the same private smile on his face.  Dinner turned into movie night, everyone clustered onto the couch and in the giant chairs.  Tony and Steve ended up on one of the couches, in their normal seats.  Steve relaxed into Tony’s side, holding his popcorn bowl where Tony could easily reach it.  Maybe he held Tony’s hand during the space scenes.  Maybe Tony squeezed his hand, grateful.

\--

Somehow, they ended up in Steve’s room, in his bed. But every time Tony tried to get rid of Steve’s pants, he managed to divert his hands somewhere else.  Finally Tony gave up.  He looked at Steve, inches from his face, mouth gorgeously pink from kissing.  Steve held back from chasing his mouth. 

“You don’t want to have sex?” Tony asked, pressing his hips down, finding pretty clear evidence that Steve did actually want to have sex.

Steve could have cried.  He wanted.  God, he wanted, and it was the one time, the only time, that he was ever going to be able to make love with Tony, he wanted so much he couldn’t breathe with it.  But he couldn’t.  “I do, so much, I love you so much. I just. Can I just hold you tonight?”

Tony held his gaze, searching for something. Then he nodded, pure affection writ openly across his face.  “Of course.” He stroked a hand down Steve’s chest, settling in.  Steve kissed him, running fingers down Tony’s spine. Steve counted the stars, imagining each was a universe, knowing—desperate and true—that in each one he’d love the man he held in his arms tonight.

“I love you,” Steve said, long after he thought Tony was asleep. 

\--

Jarvis woke them both up around five thirty, light starting to filter through the windows. 

Steve woke up with Tony curled around his torso.  It was the first time since he’d been frozen that it felt natural to wake up in this century.  He pulled Tony in to his body, kissing him gently. And this was all he needed, it was like breathing.  He could feel Tony, hard along his thigh, and he had woken up hard himself.  But kissing Tony was more than he’d thought he’d ever get, and he was happy to bask in the warmth of him. 

The sun crept along the carpet, rising quickly, too quickly, up the bed frame. 

As the air lightened, Steve felt himself collapse, like his lungs couldn’t hold oxygen anymore, like his heart was slowly pulling itself smaller, his body losing its muscle, losing its will.  This was it, anyway, this was the end.  Somehow he’d have to explain to Tony what he was doing naked in Steve’s bed.  Chalk it up to magic, maybe.  How had he thought he’d survive this hit? How had he imagined he’d be able to go on?

Steve sat up, still holding Tony’s hand, watched the light advance closer, desperately wanting to block out the sun, finally understanding Thanos’s desire to control the universe, if he could only turn back the clock on this one, live forever in this day.

“I love you, Tony,” he said, bringing Tony’s fingers to his mouth.  He tried to make himself say goodbye, tried to brace himself for that moment when Tony realized where he was. He imagined it would feel like going into the ice all over again.  He’d survived it before.  He could do it again.  He could. He’d stand next to Tony, teammate and friend, bury his love and himself.

“Steve,” Tony said, smiling up at him, “you’re so beautiful. Watch the sunrise with me.”

Steve shuddered.  Tony didn’t know what he was asking.  To watch the end of this.  Watch the light slowly burn away his dreams.

“Please.”

Steve was always helpless against him. 

He held Tony’s hand, watched the sunline creep over him, like in the painting, illuminating his skin, anointing him. He watched it edge closer to his own hand, unhurried, a nightmare.  The moment the sun warmed his skin, he couldn’t help it.  He closed his eyes.  The world stopped, narrowed to only the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, the warmth of the sun conquering his skin, until he knew he was lying entirely in the light, the day fully on him, flaying him, leaving him exposed and defenseless.  He had no idea how long it had been.  Only that it was over.  And Steve was lost.  He didn’t know how to go on.  But Tony would be expecting some sort of answer, and he had to open his eyes, had to face it head on.  Had to take the consequences Njorun warned him would come.  At least, they’d only hurt him.  She’d promised. 

He opened his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, choose your own adventure.  
> Ch2, angst. firmly set in the MCU.  
> Ch3, angst and fluff and smut.  
> Ch4, fluff and smut


	2. should any curious dawn discuss our mingling spirits,you would disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want angst.   
> MCU!Steve pines.   
> From something I saw from one-and-five-nines
> 
> if you want resolution, try chapter 3 or 4 instead

A hand hit Steve’s chest, feeling around curiously.

“Jesus,” Tony said, clearly confused, “you’re not female. I mean I guess you have the chest for it but you’ve got more manbits than my usual partners.  Less, you know, long hair and well, clitoris.  Did they know about the clitoris before you were frozen?” He groaned, shielding his eyes. “What the hell is going on. Am I in your room? What did I drink last night?” Tony asked, blinking in the sun.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, withdrawing his hand.  “Um. I’m not sure what happened. But yes, this is um, this is my room.”

Tony started to laugh. “Loki, right? I mean, there’s no way I end up in Captain America’s very pristine very virtuous bed if not for that asshole.  What a dick. Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but,” he laughed again, “not exactly my fault here, Rogers.  And I’ve been trying, Pepper said I should try to play nicer.”

“Loki,” Steve agreed, trying to laugh along, but it felt like there wasn’t enough air in his lungs for that.

“Weird,” Tony said.  “Do you like your room? You need new sheets, you know that?” He huffed a breath.  “Nice view, though.  Skyline looks great from this side. I gave you the best view, but don’t tell Thor.  It only encourages him.” He stretched. “Well.  I should get back to my own room.  Thanks for the crashpad, Rogers.”

Steve swallowed.  “Any time, Tony.”

“Sorry you ended up with a man in bed,” Tony smirked, walked to the door, oblivious to the fact that Steve was holding himself together with hope and worn cotton sheets. “If it makes you feel better, I’m ordering team breakfast from Elsie’s. You shouldn’t have to take care of the team after Loki fucks up your sleeping schedule.” He turned at the door.  “Sleep in, Cap.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to leave his room for breakfast. 

\--

Sam texted around noon; he had time for a run.  Steve pulled himself out of bed and into the shower.  Running was good.  Physical exertion was healthy, and it wasn’t like they had to talk the whole time.

“What’s up with you, man?” Sam asked, afterward. “You normally don’t put me through my paces like that. Something bothering you or did you just decide I must have been skimping on leg day?”

Steve grimaced, chastened.  “Sorry, Sam.  I don’t know.  I guess I’ve just been a little stressed.”

“No idea why,” Sam commented dryly. “Just the weight of the world on your shoulders.  No big deal, right?” He shook his head.  “Steve. Why don’t you take a break? There’s a lot of superheroes out there now.  Let someone lead for a while. When’s the last time you took a break?”

Steve thought about it. He’d woken up and battled Loki, hadn’t stopped fighting since.  Before the ice… He’d been in basic training until he’d been made a USO exhibit, and from there he’d led the Commandos.

“I don’t know.”

“Steve.  Do you. You gotta take care of yourself.  Go see an ocean, stay on a beach somewhere, chop down some trees. The world’ll be okay.”

\--

When Steve got back to the tower, he’d put the idea mostly out of his mind.  It wasn’t a big deal.  He’d get over it.  Then he saw Tony, finishing the last of the coffee pot in the kitchen, fiddling with a stylus and a Starkpad, and he had never felt so desperately, achingly alone.  Hollow. He filed paperwork for a leave of absence immediately. He’d take his cell phone. If they really needed him, they could call. He sent out an email to the team.

He packed a bag. Just a few clothes, toothbrush, cash. He was just double checking that he had what he needed when Natasha showed up in his doorway.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, eyebrow raised just slightly.

He nodded.  “Just for a little while.  See the sights.  It’s been a while, and the world’s changed a lot. Figure I should see some of it, while I can.”

She looked dissatisfied at his answer. “Want to tell me what else is going on? Did Loki say something to you? You know you can’t trust him, Steve.”

Steve grimaced inwardly.  Not the problem, actually, this time.  “No, he didn’t. This one’s on me. It’s fine.”

Natasha’s eyebrow just shot up higher as she pursed her lips.  “You know, you don’t have to go alone.”

He laughed, throwing a baseball cap at her.  “Who’s going to come with me, you? I think you’re still on the active duty roster, Romanoff.”

She caught the hat in one hand, tossing it onto the table.  “I mean, you don’t have to _be_ alone all the time.  Some of us are used to that.  Like it even.  You’re not made like us.”

No, that he already knew. But he wasn’t like other people either, happy in a crowd, milling aimlessly, talking with everyone. He already had his heart set, he was already losing in a game that Tony literally had no idea existed, let alone that he was winning.  Pure misery shot through his body for a moment, rooting him to the floor.  _Get it together, Rogers_ , he commanded himself. _You can do this_.  He picked up the cap from where she’d tossed it, schooling his face into a friendly, flippant demeanor before he turned back to her.  “Going to get me a date with another Mets fan?” he asked, grin clear in his voice.

She ignored his joke, crossing the room to look closely at him.  “If anyone deserves a break, it’s you, Steve.  But I know what running away looks like. I know that’s what this is. I won’t stop you, I just wish you didn’t want to.” She took the hat from his hand and set it firmly on his head.  “Remember. Don’t run—walk.” She kissed his cheek and disappeared from his doorway.

Steve grabbed his bag, heading down to the garage.  Sam knew how to get in touch, Nat always had tabs on him. Tony could, if he thought about it, call.  He wouldn’t, Steve knew.  But he could.

Steve thought the universe was playing an extraordinarily cruel joke on him when Tony got on the elevator at the workshop, reading a text on his phone. He felt like all the air had been sucked out of the car, and Tony hadn’t even glanced up at him yet.  This yearning, this need to just be seen, to be able to touch him again, it was agony, and Tony had no idea the way Steve had to dissemble, daily.  “Everything okay, Steve?” he asked. “The kids want me to ask you why you’re taking off.” Ah.  That explained the text.

Steve looked out the window for a moment, trying to be anywhere but here.  The sun would set soon.  “I just need a break.” He turned back, smiled. He was pretty sure it looked natural.  “I’ll be back, Tony.  And I’m around if you need me.” He tried not to notice the way the setting sun shot fire through Tony’s hair, the way Tony’s eyes tightened a little against the glare, making tiny wrinkles that Steve wanted to kiss away. He attempted to ignore the grey smudge on the side of his neck where he knew he’d kissed him last night. The space was too close. His heart slowly, inexorably imploding, a newly formed black hole eating him from the inside.

Tony lingered in the elevator when they reached the garage, not going back up to his workshop, but not stepping into the garage either. “Is there something you need here? I tried to make your room all, you know, you, but I’m happy to make changes if you want something. You just have to tell me, or Pep, or well, no, probably just me, Pep’s designer is a little too into feathers, if you know what I mean, but we can customize however you want. Those floors were mostly a base plan anyway.” He made a note on his phone, muttering “sheets” under his breath. Then he looked back up, eyes sharp. “Is this about this morning? It’s not a big deal, Rogers. Look, we’re in a new era, it’s not the end of the world when two guys wake up together. Not the first time it’s happened to me, although sure, usually not a coworker, or, you know, someone who’s almost double my age, I’m not usually the Anna Nicole type, you know?”

Steve held the straps of his bag tightly, concentrating on the way the leather felt. A focal point.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, and that’s not really a highlight of the time you missed anyway, so it’s probably not worth telling you about,” Tony continued, rambling. “Or, wait, are you having gay panic? Steve, Cap, look, first, it doesn’t make you gay, we were just sleeping, I would’ve felt it this morning if we’d been, what did you guys call it, making whoopee? Well, assuming you’d be topping, but have you seen you? Seems like you would be. But seriously, the public frowns on homophobia, Steve, put on your big boy pants, it’s a new—“

Steve gave up. “Tony,” he cut in, “I’m not homophobic. This isn’t about this morning.” It wasn’t, really, he excused himself in his mind.  He’d been in love with Tony for far longer than this morning. “I just need some time. For myself. To um, do me.” That’s what Sam had called it, right?

Tony burst out laughing. “And they call _me_ the narcissist!”

Steve flushed. Was that really what Tony thought of him? He was a narcissist and a bigot? So old-fashioned, so hypermasculine, that he couldn’t cope with change? Couldn’t compromise? Steve’s skin was heated but the rest of him was ice cold, humiliated, sick with disappointment in himself. He touched the handle of his motorcycle, trying to ground himself. No. Probably not. Or not entirely. Steve felt fairly sure that if Tony really thought all that of him, he’d be less welcoming than he was.  Tony didn’t dislike him; he was kind to Steve.  Caught him up on the good movies, showed him how to make the pop-up blocker more selective, asked him for feedback on his suits.  They were teammates. Friends.  Good friends, even. 

Tony noticed Steve’s discomfort, swallowing his laughter and saying sympathetically, “Hey, no, you’re right. Do you. Do what makes you happy, right? You deserve it, Cap.  No one more than you.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve replied, finally. “I’m just going to see a little more of the world. But you know how to get in touch, if you need me.”

“Right. Well.  Same.” Tony stepped back into the elevator. “About the getting in touch, anyway. Take care of yourself, Rogers, don’t miss me too much, save the manful tears.” He grinned, pressing the button to take him back to the workshop.

Steve threw a leg over his bike, put the key in the ignition. In a reckless act of daring, he called out, “I will miss you, Tony.”

The doors sealed.

Steve rode out of Manhattan, watching the sun go down, the wind bracing on his skin, whipping brisk around his face. This was worse than the ice.  This time he’d done it to himself knowingly, it was all on him. This time he had to live through it, instead of waking up after.  He wondered how long it would take, this time, to get to _after_. 

He stayed away a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, i haven't figured out if this needs a fix-it/follow up  
> Feel free to let me know what you think


	3. twilight will dissolve reintegrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst and fluff and smut  
> not a continuation of chapter 2  
> different verse

“Did I get drunk last night?” Tony asked, blinking in the sun. 

Steve bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, withdrawing his hand.  “No.  You’re still clean.”

“What am I doing here?” His tone was strained, but that was pretty much to be expected under the circumstances.

“I’m pretty sure something happened with the fall out from Loki.  You know how he can be.” Steve considered feeling bad for maligning Thor’s brother for a moment, but given the amount of havoc Loki’d put them through just this past week alone, he didn’t actually feel guilty. 

“Weird,” Tony said, glancing around.  “Do you like your room? You need new sheets, you know that?” He huffed a breath.  “Nice view, though.  Skyline looks great from this side.” He stretched. “Well.  I should get back to my own room.  Thanks for the crashpad, Rogers.”

Steve swallowed.  “Any time, Tony.”

Tony walked to the door, oblivious to the fact that Steve was holding himself together with hope and worn cotton sheets.  He turned at the door, winked, and left. 

Steve stayed in bed for a long time. 

\--

Sam texted around noon; he had time for a run.  Steve pulled himself out of bed and into the shower.  Running was good.  Physical exertion was healthy, and it wasn’t like they had to talk the whole time.

“What’s up with you, man?” Sam asked, afterward, panting. “You normally don’t put me through my paces like that. Something bothering you or did you just decide I must have been skimping on leg day?”

Steve grimaced, chastened.  “Sorry, Sam.  I don’t know.  I guess I’ve just been a little stressed.”

“No idea why,” Sam commented dryly. “Just the weight of the world on your shoulders.  No big deal, right?” He shook his head.  “Steve. Why don’t you take a break? There’s a lot of superheroes out there now.  Let someone lead for a while. When’s the last time you took a break?”

Steve thought about it. He’d woken up and battled Loki, hadn’t stopped fighting since.  Before the ice… He’d been in basic training until he’d been made a USO exhibit, and from there he’d led the Commandos.

“I don’t know.”

“Steve.  Do you. You gotta take care of yourself.  Go see an ocean, stay on a beach somewhere, chop down some trees. The world’ll be okay.”

\--

When Steve got back to the tower, he’d put the idea mostly out of his mind.  It wasn’t a big deal.  He’d get over it.  Then he saw Tony, finishing the last of the coffee pot in the kitchen, fiddling with a stylus and a Starkpad, and he had never felt so desperately, achingly alone.  For the first time, he felt completely hollow, he had nothing left to give. He filed paperwork for a leave of absence immediately. He gave himself a month.  He’d take his cell phone. If they really needed him, they could call. He sent out an email to the team.

He packed a bag. Just a few clothes, toothbrush, cash. He was just double checking that he had what he needed when Tony showed up in his doorway. 

“Everything okay, Cap?”

Steve looked out the window for a moment.  The sun would set soon.  “I just need a break.” He turned back, smiled. He was pretty sure it looked natural.  “I’ll be back, Tony.  And I’m around if you need me.”

Tony still lingered in the doorway, obviously not coming back into the room where he’d woken up this morning.  He smiled though, a little tight at the edges.  “Right. Well.  Same.” He moved away, tossing back, “Take care of yourself, Rogers.”

Steve stood in his room, watching the sun go down.  This was worse than the ice.  This time he’d done it to himself knowingly, it was all on him. This time he had to live through it, instead of waking up after.  He wondered how long it would take, this time, to get to _after_.  He grabbed his bag, got on his motorcycle, and left the city.

Steve never stayed long in one place.  He liked little towns, where people didn’t immediately know who he was.  He liked drinking coffee in the open air in the mornings, hearing birds in mountain trees.  He liked the way the breeze smelled, outside the city.

He was in a tiny town, far from anywhere resembling a city, renting out a room in the only motel in town. The whole building only had three units and the bedspread looked to be something knitted by the old lady who ran the place, but it had a percolator instead of a single-cup brewer, so he was actually very pleased with it, on the whole. It had a shelf of books—take one, leave one.  The shelf was clean, but the books had that smell to them, the dusty smell, the one that said they had forgotten how it felt to be read. He had picked up a cookbook, was halfway through the poultry section learning about duck a l’orange, when he heard a familiar thud outside.  He sighed, closing the book. 

“You didn’t call, is everything okay?” he asked, opening the door, pulse picking up.

Tony put the faceplate up. There was a smudge of grease on one eyebrow. “I don’t know,” was all he said. 

So it was going to be one of those days.  “Come in. Do you want some coffee?” He set the percolator to brew.

Tony stepped out of the suit, left it on the porch.  “Did you… When you… That morning when…” He fidgeted a little with his phone in his hand, prowling the tiny room.  He didn’t say anything about the bedspread, although he briefly scanned the bookshelf, eyes catching for a second on the three copies of _Hitchhiker’s Guide_.

Steve had never seen Tony at a loss for words before.  Hyperverbal, sure.  This was different. 

Finally, looking out a window at the rising moon, Tony said, “Was there a reason I woke up in _your_ bed, Steve?” voice carefully neutral, clear of recrimination. Too neutral. He turned, to look at Steve directly. There it was.

Steve swallowed. “Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

_Not really_ , Steve thought.  “I. It was my fault. It was my. I asked for it.”

“You asked for it?” Tony was across the room from him, moonlight glancing off of the blue glass of his lenses. His posture was too still. Too stiff.

Steve winced.  He thought he’d thought it through. He thought he’d considered the outcomes, that Tony would forget everything, that he would have to hide his feelings again. How had he not seen this outcome, the one where he lost Tony anyway? Where Steve broke the friendship? He should have just said it.  If Tony was going to figure it out—and he should have known, Tony was the smartest person he knew—why hadn’t he just said how he felt, been honest, they’d end up in the same place anyway, with Tony leaving and Steve on his own, completely alone.  He’d thought there’d been nothing left to lose.  How short sighted he’d been. He prepared himself now, straightening his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tony moved toward him. “And this?” He tossed his phone on the bed, and it projected an image—Steve’s painting.  He didn’t know where the original was, had half thought it had disappeared when Njorun’s dreams dissipated, but apparently not, and Tony had found it.  “You made that.”

Steve turned away from Tony, looked at the image.  Proof of his guilt. Of his love.  Same thing. He forced out a reply. “Yes.”

“You should have said something.”

Steve was still looking at the painting, the intense ache he felt at seeing it, the moment of defeat, of surrender, so clearly captured in his own hand—it was a betrayal, too, of them both. He dropped his head.  “Yes.” 

Tony’s arm snaked around his waist. “I would have stayed.”

Steve turned to ask if he meant it but found himself mid-kiss, the scrape of Tony’s beard on his skin, the arm not letting go of his waist.  Tony pulled Steve’s shirt off him, muttering, “Seriously, Steve, where did you find this?” Steve blushed a little, but managed to strip Tony’s clothes off just as quickly, licking every scrap of skin he could reach, shivering at the rough feel of Tony’s hands, trailing his hand down Tony’s chest. 

“Did we do this before?” Tony asked, hand tight around Steve’s cock, mouthing along his chest. “Did we do this in whatever space happened when I woke up in your bed? It just feels so familiar.”

Steve froze. “No.  Tony, no, of course not, I wouldn’t have…”

Tony stopped, moved his lips from Steve’s nipple to kiss his mouth, feather-soft.  “Just from my dreams, then,” he said, lightly. He walked Steve back to the bed, pushing him down, and Steve went, easily. Once he was laid out, Tony stopped, above him, drawing back to fully view how Steve’s body looked, drenched in moonlight.  “You’re so beautiful, sometimes it just.” He ran a finger down Steve’s body, a hot line that made Steve shiver.  He put his own fingers into his mouth, wetting them obscenely, licking down his fingers, never breaking eye contact.  Steve couldn’t look away.  Then Tony shifted on the bed, spreading Steve’s legs, taking him deep into his mouth at the same time that he pushed the tip of his finger at the tight center of his hole.  Steve was trapped, trying to get deeper, ending up rocking, slightly, gasping and chanting Tony’s name. Tony was working his cock lewdly, wet and messy, making a show of it, seeing how it turned Steve on, dragging the sharp stubble of his beard across Steve’s thighs.  Steve pulsed in his mouth, wet, and Tony pulled off, licking his shaft instead, slurping, humming happily to himself. “Excellent,” he exclaimed, only half to Steve, it seemed, “I was wondering how we’d get you wet enough.” Then he paused for a second, catching himself, petting Steve’s thigh distractedly. He dropped little chaste kisses up Steve’s body, kissing his ear, his neck. He kissed his mouth, barely brushing his lips over Steve’s. “Steve,” he said calmly, deliberately. “Sugar. Baby.  We don’t have to do anything more, we don’t have to do anything at all. Whatever you—“

“Tony, please,” Steve groaned. “Please, I want you, please,” he couldn’t stop himself, he’d just waited for so long. 

“Okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, babe,” Tony said, refocusing. He licked the joint at the top of Steve’s thigh where it was red, irritated from his beard, tongue pressing firmly into the crease, and Steve’s cock pulsed again, spurting liquid across his abdomen. Tony swiped his fingers through it, sucking gently at the base of Steve’s shaft.

And god, that was incandescently hot, Tony working him open using _that_.  He could feel another finger, stretching him, twisting, working deeper and wider.  And then another, and he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t hold everything he was feeling inside, the sensations bursting out of him, cracking open his chest, surging from his skin, “I love you, Tony,” he managed to say, nearly out of his mind.

Tony stilled, ready to enter him, halting all his motion, a sea change from his normal frenetic pace.  He reached up, winding his fingers through Steve’s. He smiled, that same sweet, secret smile Steve had seen from him in what was not exactly a dream.  And then Steve lost the thread as Tony pushed inside him, his lips moving, but Steve couldn’t hear anything over his own pulse in his ears, the pressure building inside him, the feeling of being full, overfull, god too much it was too much and he needed, his heart racing, he needed, and then Tony was there, stroking his face, kissing him gently, a counterpoint to the steady quick thrusts, he was overwhelmed, but Tony had him, he had him, on the ragged edge, tipping over and the world brightened for a moment, too bright, too much, and he came, hard and jagged, ropes of white hitting his chest, his face even, and Tony just drove in, harder, quicker and shallow, barely pulling out at all until he gasped Steve’s name and pulsed deep inside him, hot and wet. 

“I love you,” Steve said again, muffled a little with his mouth against Tony’s hair.

Tony gave a limp chuckle. “Endorphin rush,” he said.

Steve knew that gentle tone, underlying the quick edge.  “Nope,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss on Tony’s ear. “Love you.” He dragged his fingertips down Tony’s spine, ignoring the way that his mess was starting to feel tacky between their bodies, petting the expanse of skin he’d been longing to put his hands on for ages, the muscular shoulders, the warm cleft of his ass. 

Tony picked up his head, turned so he was staring at Steve full in the face. There was that smile again, but a bit shy maybe, a wry upturn in the corner of his mouth.  “I love you.  Thought you already knew that. Thought I’d given myself away.”

Steve shook his head. “No. I thought I had.”

Tony tapped his fingers on Steve’s chest, counting. “When I have you come down to the workshop, even if technically I don’t need you around.  I had you teach me how to scramble eggs.  So I could be around you at breakfast for longer.  When I ask if I can take you to your meetings when really I should just let you go with Sam. Do you even know how long Dum-E’s been waiting to give you those watercolors? I just didn’t know how to do it without being awkward.”

Steve took Tony’s fingers in his hand, kissing them.  “You don’t need to give me anything, Tony. Being with you is everything.”

Tony looked up at him, that quiet look on his face. It was so different than his usual urgency, but it looked… it looked right on him. Comfortable. _Happy_. “Come home with me?”

Steve kissed him again, because he could, because it made him happy, because it made Tony smile, because home was wherever Tony was. “Anywhere.”


	4. only by you my heart always moves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff and smut  
> not a continuation of chapter 2. or 3.
> 
> I know this is sort of an outlier, in style.   
> I love your feedback. And thanks.

Tony was still looking at him, the same affectionate crinkle around his eyes, sad somehow. 

“Do you feel how warm the sun is on you?”

Steve nodded, not sure why Tony was asking.  How that would lead to the inevitable, _What am I doing here?_

Tony reached for Steve with his free hand, slipping it around his neck, drawing him closer.  “Then you know that this is me. All me.”

He kissed Steve, slow and sweet as honey.

“I love you, Steve.  I’m in love with you. I’d fly through space for you without a second thought, darling.  You didn’t need an Asgardian for that.”

Steve’s lungs expanded, his entire body glowing, luminescent. “You heard?”

“I was right outside.” Tony kissed him again, quickly, a line of tiny kisses across his face. “I get worried about you when you switch off the comm,” he admitted. “I heard from when she called you wise. She could see me, the whole time.  There’s no dream, Steve. There’s no spell. It’s just me.”

“You’re everything I want, Tony. Everything.” Steve rolled so he covered Tony, his back to the sun, fully drowning in light, touching him everywhere, fingertips burning, rolling his hips against Tony’s thighs.

Tony grinned. “That means we can have sex, right? Cause I gotta tell you, I’ve been dying to see what you’ve got down there.” He hooked Steve with his ankle and flipped them. “I told you,” he said smugly, pulling Steve’s pants off.  “Well, hello there,” he purred, looking positively gleeful to get his hands on Steve’s dick. Or, his mouth, anyway.  He kissed his way down Steve’s body, tonguing his balls, swirling them on his tongue, licking along the seam.  Steve’s cock jumped, straining.

Tony finally closed his mouth over the tip and Steve gasped.  He was so hot and wet, the pressure eclipsing whatever thoughts Steve had been trying to have.  Tony shifted, trying to take more of Steve, swallowing him down, the tip of Steve’s cock pressing into his throat, sliding down, cutting off his air. He worked his hand around the part of the shaft he couldn’t take, fondling behind Steve’s balls. He pulled off, breathing hard. 

“Jesus, Steve. I want you inside me, darling. I want to fuck you so bad. I want you to come down my throat. God I want everything.” Tony was shaking, desire thrumming through him. 

Steve reached up, stroking down Tony’s throat, calming him.  “Tony.  I love you.” He stretched up to kiss him.  “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me. I’ll give you anything.”

Tony seemed to settle a little, relaxing into Steve’s arms.  “I need you inside me.  Just go slow, it’s been a while and you’re pretty talented in the size department.” He kissed Steve, playful, smiling.

Steve could do that.  He pulled Tony under him, flipping him over.  “On your knees, love.” He could stare at Tony’s ass all day. And now he was allowed to, without being creepy about it.  He gazed at Tony’s smooth skin, his powerful thighs parted, shafting hanging down enticingly between them.  Steve ran his tongue up one cheek, then ghosted a breath over his hole, making Tony shudder.  He ran his tongue from Tony’s balls to his hole, gentle and wet, while Tony gasped under him.  He circled his tongue around, pressure increasing steadily, Tony’s breathing turning ragged.  Steve loved that, hearing Tony fall apart, just as vocal as he’d always hoped. Slowly, he shaped his tongue into a point, pushing it into Tony’s body, feeling him relax under him, allowing the intrusion, allowing him past the rim.  He pushed his tongue in, fucking in and out, thrusting and twisting. 

He moved to get lube out of a drawer, then considered, looking the beautiful lines of Tony’s body, kneeling on the bed, eyes half mast and dreamy. He bent down, kissing him, then holding two fingers by his mouth. “Get me wet, love,” he said. Tony opened his mouth, suckling Steve’s fingers, running his tongue up and down. Steve watched for a moment, then moved back onto the bed, Tony releasing his fingers with a pop.  Steve looked down at the tiny furl of Tony’s hole, relaxed around the rim, but far too tight to accommodate him now.  He pushed his tongue back in, gentle but as deep as he could, making him wetter and looser.  He licked along the rim, stretching it, adding a finger and twisting, Tony shivering against him, gasping, asking for more. 

Steve took his time, adding a second finger, relishing in the freedom to taste Tony, to be able to make love to him. He was going to make him feel so good.  He added a third finger, dripping lube, and Tony swore, pleaded with him. 

“That’s enough, it’s enough, you’re good, I’m good,” he babbled, never having moved from where Steve set him. “Please, darling, please, stop teasing—“ he broke off breathless when Steve moved to lick his way around the rim, pushing his tongue in beside his fingers. “You kinky bastard, Jesus, they’ll never believe, next time, please, just, please, don’t make me beg,” Tony implored, apparently ignoring the detail that he was actually begging. 

Steve picked him up and turned him, loving the fact that he could, placing him gently back on a pillow.  “I love you,” he told him, just because he could, and then hooked his arms under Tony’s knees, lined himself up, and slowly pushed just the tip into Tony’s yielding body, hot and tight, the rim pulsing around the head of his cock, fluttering. He stopped, afraid he hadn’t loosened him up enough.  He ran his hands down Tony’s sides, kissed his thigh. “Sweetheart?” he asked.

“God, you’re enormous, I love it, come on Steve, give it to me, please, don’t tease, sharing is caring,” Tony groaned out, hands scrabbling for Steve’s and pulling him forward.  “Oh god, yes, holy—you—is that still, Jesus—“ He stopped talking, just gasped as he finally felt Steve’s thighs against his ass.  Steve could feel Tony’s body quivering around him, trying to relax, trying to allow him to move, but he thought just the little tremors might be enough to set him off.  He tried hard to think of other things, stave off an orgasm until Tony had his, but he didn’t want to think of anything except this, forever, burn it into his mind. 

Tony kept pulling Steve forward until he could kiss him, ignoring the way his legs bent up past where he was comfortable.  Then he pushed him back a little, commanding, “Move.”

Steve pulled almost all the way out, still a little slower than Tony seemed to want him, then pushed his way back, watching the rim stretch around him, feeling the little shivers of Tony being too full, too stretched.  He sped up, watching Tony’s face, making sure he was feeling pleasure rather than pain, pausing to spread more lube on himself, picking up the pace again.  Tony’s cock was flushed and swollen, damp at the head. Steve swirled his thumb around the head and brought it to his mouth, sucking at the bitterness, savoring the taste of him. He held Tony’s eyes as he did, and Tony clamped down almost painfully on him, the drag tight and unyielding as Tony came, spurting mess all over his chest, on Steve’s stomach.  Steve rocked into him, gently, tiny movements as Tony shook.

Eventually, Tony opened his eyes. “Come on, sugar, make me feel it,” he said, voice hoarse.  Steve pulled Tony’s hips up, making him puff out a laugh. Tony urged him on, murmuring breathlessly, praising Steve, telling him how he’d ruined Tony for anyone else, how he loved Steve, how he was going to have to keep him now, forever, and Steve’s orgasm blindsided him, leaving him gasping, panting, the word _forever_ echoing between them. Forever.

It’s all he wanted, after all, lying here, with Tony, completely honest, completely known, completely loved, in the light of his own personal sun.

**Author's Note:**

> so, choose your own adventure.  
> Ch2, angst. firmly set in the MCU.  
> Ch3, angst and fluff and smut.  
> Ch4, fluff and smut


End file.
